


Sharing

by ElwritesFanworks



Series: Charlie and Lucien's Respective Issues [5]
Category: The Doctor Blake Mysteries
Genre: Boundaries, Charlie and his issues with power and gay sex, Charlie finds this all a bit uncomfortable, Charlie tries his best, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Intimacy, Lucien has a rough night, Lucien's past as a POW is mentioned, M/M, Nightmares, No Sex, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prisoner of War, though Charlie offers in a very ham-handed way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 05:56:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9979391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElwritesFanworks/pseuds/ElwritesFanworks
Summary: Lucien has a rough night and Charlie winds up helping him cope.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was rewatching season 1 the other day and realized I should probably spend a bit of time tackling the Lucien-was-a-POW situation. So this is a few layers peeled off of that particular onion.
> 
> Also thank you to my mom for helping inspire me to include the bit about Charlie's childhood informing his methods of comfort. *grateful son offers a thank.*

* * *

Lucien comes to him, the next time. Charlie’s been sleeping well since sorting things out with the doctor. He still has the odd night of restlessness and guilt, but if anything, that’s abated. Lucien sucked him off and neither of them died, the sun still rose the next morning, and the world kept right on turning. Since that first encounter, they’ve kissed a few times, shared a fond silence over a cup of tea and sat up late listening to the wireless, but that’s it. Works been keeping them both busy, and, what with Charlie sleeping so well, it simply hasn’t occurred to him to stay awake and pay the doctor a late-night visit. He falls asleep, lately, as soon as his head hits the pillow.

So, in the end, it’s Lucien who comes to him, who steals into his room like a thief in the night and wakes him by turning on the bedside lamp. Charlie wakes, muzzy and rumpled, eyes squinting at the sudden brightness, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Wuh… what time is it?” he slurs, rubbing the sleeve of his pajamas across his face. “… Doc?”

As his eyes adjust, he realizes that Lucien does not look well. His eyes are bloodshot and red-rimmed and his smile is tight, teeth bared. He looks half-mad.

“I’m afraid this time it’s me who can’t sleep,” he whispers. “Bad night.”

Charlie nods, unsure of what to do. In a show of goodwill, he turns down the corner of his coverlet.

“Get in?”

Lucien doesn’t need to be asked twice. He slides in and turns the lamp off, plunging them both into darkness. For some time, they sit in silence, listening to Lucien hyperventilating. When his breath shows little sign of slowing, Charlie finds his hand in the dark and holds it tight. It’s as if that act gives Lucien permission, because the doctor is suddenly wrapped around Charlie like a constrictor snake, panting wetly against his neck. Sobbing too, a little.

Charlie is not sure what he should do. Every time Blake gets like this, Charlie feels like he’s witnessing something not meant for his eyes. Still… he finds he doesn’t want to turn Lucien away, and not just because it’d be rude. It feels… special, being the one Lucien wants to turn to.

Being that he wants to do something more than just sit and stare at him, Charlie worms an arm free of Lucien’s hold and gets it onto the doctor’s back, which he rubs. He hums softly, tries to remember and mimic what his Mum used to do for him when he was a boy, what he used to do in turn for his younger siblings whenever they’d had a fright, and, in time, Lucien calms enough to speak.

“Sorry,” the doctor says with a shaky chuckle that comes across as a bit manic. He really doesn’t seem himself, and it’s unnerving, if Charlie’s being honest.

“It’s alright. Did you have a… nightmare?”

The word sounds inadequate, childish, for what he means. Lucien manages a small nod.

“Was it… was it the War?”

Another nod. Then,

“I was a POW.”

Right. Charlie’d forgotten, but now that he thinks about it, yes, that particular bit of gossip had reached his ears at some time or other.

“It was… it was awful. I’m sorry,” Blake apologizes again. “God, what am I doing, waking you up? You have work tomorrow – we both have –”

“I said it was fine. Do you… do you want to talk about it?”

Charlie feels Blake tense.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you – obviously, I do. I just… I don’t like to think about it, let alone divulge it. It’s bad enough I go back there in sleep, but when I’m awake, I don’t want to…” he trails off.

Charlie hesitates.

“I don’t really know how to help you,” he admits.

“You’re doing more than you should have to.”

“I – let me – it’s not easy for me to say this, Doc.”

“Right. Continue. I won’t interrupt.”

Charlie swallows. He imagines all of his worries condensing into a small ball, and then imagines forcing that ball as far down inside himself as he can, burying it, walling it in. _Do this for Lucien. He needs this._

“If you want to do anything with me… to help you sleep… you can. Whatever you like.”

Lucien’s eyes widen.

“I – I’m flattered, Charlie, but we both know you don’t really mean that.”

“I do –”

“It’s alright to have reservations.”

Charlie’s grimace gives him away. Lucien’s palm is warm against his cheek.

“Charlie, I mean it. You do not _owe_ me anything.”

Charlie leans in before he can lose his nerve.

“I sort of wish I did.”

The kiss is clumsy – the angle’s wrong – but Lucien sinks into it wholly. Charlie likes that – is surprised at how much he wants to see the doctor relaxed and at ease. When he grabs Lucien’s hand and moves it down to cup his arse, he feels the older man’s groan rumble into his mouth.

“I don’t – wait,” Blake rasps, shaking his head. “I really – ah – must insist.”

“You don’t want it?” Charlie blurts out, brow furrowed.

“Not… not so soon. After a dream like that I just – I can’t –”

Charlie nods in limited understanding.

“I’d like… very much to kiss you,” Blake adds. “Just to kiss you, and to… to hold you close. If you don’t mind.”

Charlie shrugs and lies back on his pillow, trying not to tense as Lucien climbs over him. He knows Blake respects him – know the doctor would get under _him_ in a heartbeat under other circumstances, so really, turnabout’s fair play. He knows that, but he’s still nervous as hell, and more than a little uncomfortable being loomed over.

Lucien’s kisses aren’t helping matters. It’s all a bit weird – he’s not kissing properly – just sort of nuzzling and pressing closed lips against Charlie’s cheeks and chin. A sudden splattering of hot droplets against his skin makes Charlie realize that the older man’s crying again. There’s a hand cradling the left side of his head, and another hand running over his body, but it’s not at all sexual – it’s more like Lucien’s taking an inventory of his body parts – making sure everything’s there. When everything is, he wraps himself over and around Charlie like a human shield and buries his face in his shoulder.

“I’m going to keep you safe,” he murmurs, and Charlie half-sits up, startled, at the sudden sound so close to his ear.

“Doc?”

“I’m going to make sure you’re alright, I mean that.”

“You don’t need to go to any trouble –”

“If anyone tries to hurt you, I’ll rip them to pieces.”

Charlie finds this all a bit much – until he thinks of Blake’s family. The wife he couldn’t save. The daughter he’d feared he’d lost.

“The stuff that happened in the War – that won’t ever happen here. Not in Australia.”

Lucien snorts.

“There was a time when the world didn’t think a revolution would happen in Russia. There was a time when Hiroshima and Nagasaki were just places in Japan. You’re young yet – you haven’t seen it, how quickly things can turn.”

“I’m young, yeah, but I’m a copper – a bloody good one, if I’m to believe you. Evil’s all over the place, sure, but that doesn’t mean we’re powerless against it. Do you honestly think we’d get another Adolf Hitler anywhere in the civilized world, now that we’ve seen the aftermath?”

Lucien makes to reply, then shakes his head.

“You’re utterly abysmal at pillow talk,” he remarks, “but you’re not entirely wrong in painting me as a cynic. At my age, it comes with the territory.”

“Stop going on as if you’re ancient – you’re not that old!”

“I’m old enough to be your father.”

The words are out before Lucien can think of their implications, and the guilty silence that follows is only slightly less revealing than the slight tremor that passed through Charlie at the words.

“Charlie…” Blake ventures, treading carefully. “You… grew up without a father, didn’t you?”

Charlie can’t answer. Suddenly he wants very much to be anywhere but underneath Lucien, where the evidence of his traitorous reaction is making itself known, where he feels small and childish and vulnerable as a rat in the jaws of a dog. The doctor runs his fingers through Charlie’s hair and the policeman simultaneously recoils and arches forwards, making a strangled sound of disgust and undeniable need.

“It’s… it’s alright. If you see me that way. Not… conventional, I suppose, but it is a sound explanation as to why you’d be interested.”

Charlie shakes his head.

“You make me sound as if I’m using you –”

“It’s alright if you are –”

“What sort of person do you think I am?”

Charlie rolls violently out from underneath, angry, taking petty satisfaction as Blake falls face-first into the pillow with a surprised ‘ouf.’ He rolls over, shock verging on alarm.

“I don’t – look, I didn’t mean to insult you!”

“Right, because saying I’m the sort of man who’d do something like that is supposed to be a compliment.”

Blake groans in frustration, rubbing a hand over his face.

“It wasn’t a compliment – it was an invitation,” he admits grudgingly. “You needn’t be so bloody pious around me.”

 _I’m not being pious!_ Charlie wants to retort, but he falters at the word ‘invitation.’

“What do you mean?” he asks instead.

“Just… if there’s anything that’d help you, or appeal to you, you can try it. Whatever you like. It’s the same offer you gave me.”

“And you refused. You don’t owe me anything either.”

“I know.”

Lucien rolls closer, reaches for him, kisses him again. At this rate, Charlie will have a friction burn all on his face come morning, but he can’t bring himself to complain.

“Do you want me to…?” he asks when they part, gesturing loosely with his hand. Lucien shakes his head.

“Not tonight. But if you want me to, I can help with your –”

“Forget it,” Charlie interrupts. “It’ll go away by itself. Let’s just get some sleep.”

“I should go back to –”

“No, stay. Who’ll find us? Mattie has no reason to come looking and Mrs. Toohey won’t leave the kitchen when she gets here – and besides, we should be up by then anyway. I know you want to.”

Lucien puts up no fight as Charlie settles in beside him, but as the young man’s hand finds his own beneath the coverlet, he voices one concern.

“If I have another dream, I could hurt you. Not on purpose, of course. It’s just… sometimes I wake up with my blankets in a chokehold, the threats seem so real. I don’t want you to put yourself at risk without knowing.”

“So, call me informed. I still don’t want you to go.”

The doctor’s hand squeezes his gently.

“You really mean that.”

It’s unclear form his tone if he meant it as a question or a statement, but Charlie answers anyway.

“I’m cold.”

“You are,” the doctor concedes. “Poor –”

“Circulation. You’ve said. Look, would you rather be alone to go through all this?”

Blake doesn’t answer, but his full-body hug speaks volumes.


End file.
